The One Left Behind
by twin-v
Summary: George talks to Dumbledore's portrait. Warning: Contains spoilers for DH


Disclaimer: All characters and places belong to JK Rowling. The memories are George's.

This contains spoilers for the final book.

Author's Notes: We were so sad when Fred died, and we were disappointed that JK didn't give George a bit more attention. We wanted to see him cope with Fred's death, but since the book didn't show it, we wrote our own. It didn't come off quite the way we expected it, and we're not sure if it even really captures how we'd feel if one of us died. Anyway, we hope you enjoy it.

George stood in the Headmistress' Office. He had specifically written to McGonagall to ask if he could have a private chat with Dumbledore's portrait. She had quickly and kindly consented, and there he was.

Dumbledore's frame was empty, and George knew that it was not because Dumbledore was reluctant to speak with him, but to give him time to collect his thoughts. It was hard for George to be back in Hogwarts, and he had deliberately avoided the Great Hall, where he had knelt by his brother's head, and the corridor where Fred had died.

Memories of that day kept running through his mind.

_"Take that!" George yelled in delight as he blasted a Death Eater backwards._

"_George."_

_George spun around. Fred was calling him. But Fred was nowhere to be seen. Shrugging, George turned his attention back to the Death Eaters, thinking that he must have imagined his twin's voice._

_Only when he saw Percy carry Fred into the Great Hall did George realize that his brother had, in fact, spoken his name._

_George kneeled at his twin's head, and their mother draped herself over Fred's body, sobbing hard. He stared at Fred's face, which still held an expression of mirth._

_It couldn't be. Fred couldn't be dead. Not Fred. George half expected him to wake up and laugh and say 'Mum, get off me, you're wetting my shirt'. _

_But it had not happened. Gently, George touched his twin's face, which was so much like his own. It was all right for Fred to laugh, of course. He was not the one who was left behind. _

A small cough brought him out of his reverie.

Dumbledore smiled down at George from his frame. "A pleasure to see you, George. I would offer you a lemon drop, but…"

George didn't smile. A number of possible funny answers flitted through his mind, but he did not feel like saying any of them. How could he, when his twin, his business partner, his best friend was gone? George would have to finish his own sentences, and if he ever got around to creating another product for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, then he'd have to do it by himself. It wasn't Fred and George anymore, it was just George.

A small, guilty part of him wished that it had been Percy instead, or Ron, who had died. They had been with Fred at the end, they had had an equal chance of dying too…But these thoughts immediately made George feel even worst than before.

"What did you wish to speak about?" asked Dumbledore.

"Fred," replied George, his voice hard. "Fred is dead."

"Ah yes, I thought it might be this." Dumbledore nodded and looked at the young man sympathetically. "How very tragic it was. So young, too. But he lived a marvelous life, and he died bravely."

All these words, George had heard before. Everyone told him these things, hoping they would comfort him, but none did. That was why he had sought out Dumbledore, hoping the old man would be able to help him get over his grief. So far Dumbledore wasn't helping. But that wasn't Dumbledore's fault- hardly anyone had ever known exactly the right words to comfort George. The only one who had really known was Fred.

_"You've been a bad boy, George!" said his mother angrily. "A very bad boy! Go to your room. And Fred- you stay here, you're not to see him until he's sorry."_

_But Fred had somehow sneaked in anyway, and perched himself on the edge of the bed where George was crying. George tried to kick him away. "She'll be angrier, go away."_

"_No," said Fred stubbornly. "I don't care. She's being stupid."_

"_Don't say that, Fred. She's our mother." But George was starting to feel better already._

_"Yeah, but that doesn't mean we can't be smarter than her," his twin replied, grinning. George found himself returning the grin._

"He died with a smile, or so I'm told," Dumbledore continued.

"Yes," George confirmed, "his last laugh. And I envied him for it, because it's like he took my last laugh too…I haven't laughed since…"

Dumbledore looked at him thoughtfully. "George, I think it would helpful for you to remember what happened during your Sorting ceremony. Refresh an old man's memory."

George frowned, but tried to do as he was told. "Well, Fred went first, because it's alphabetical. And we were both scared and nervous. And then he sat down and the Hat said Gryffindor. And then it was my turn. I was terrified that I wouldn't be in the same house as him. But instead of walking to the Gryffindor table, he waited beside the stool. When the Hat said I was in Gryffindor too, we walked to the table together."

"Isn't this rather like your Sorting?" asked Dumbledore gently. "He's gone ahead, but he's waiting for you."

"But how long will I take?"

"It doesn't matter. Do you have any doubt that he's waiting, and he'll wait as long as it takes?"

George swallowed hard. "No. It's just that it's hard not to…not to be with him, not to see him all the time."

"I know. But he's with you, George. In your thoughts, in your heart. Isn't that closer than being physically beside you?"

"I don't know."

"If you have heard Harry's adventures in the Ministry of Magic the night that Sirius died, you would know that death is a veil. It is not a brick wall, George. A brick wall separates you completely from the person on the other side. A veil does not. Two people on opposite sides of a veil can still feel each other's presence," said Dumbledore.

"That makes sense," George reluctantly agreed. Another thought occurred to him, bringing tears to his eyes yet again. "No one else knows what I'm going through. They're all grieving too, but I knew him best. It hurts me most."

"What a wonderful thing it is, to be able to say 'I knew him best', and to be correct about it," remarked Dumbledore. George nodded silently. "It is something to be proud of. The fact that you know him best only emphasizes my point. Even though a veil separates him from the rest of your family, he is closest to you. I'm certain that you will feel his presence. Did you talk about it?"

George nodded again. It had been one of the few serious conversations they had shared.

_It was nighttime, and the twins were lying in their beds. The lights were out, but they spoke quietly._

"_How's your head?" Fred asked._

"_It feels a bit strange, you know, not to have an ear. But I'll get used to it. It doesn't hurt, anyway."_

"_People will be able to tell us apart now," said Fred sadly. "I wouldn't mind cutting off my ear, mate."_

"_It's no big deal," replied George, his voice thick._

"_Still. I'd give you my ear if you ever wanted it."_

"_I- thanks." George used his blanket to wipe his eyes. "What happens if one of us dies?"_

"_That would be awful."_

"_Yeah, I know."_

"_But we'd have to go on, wouldn't we, George? Who else could run the store? Bill isn't creative enough, and Ron's a brilliant guinea pig, but he hasn't got enough talent. The one who's left would have go to on."_

"_That's true," replied George in a forced cheerful voice. "It would be hard, but we'd have to do it."_

"_Yeah."_

"_I'd miss you, Fred."_

"_I'd miss you too, George."_

_There was an uncomfortable silence, as the twins weren't usually the sentimental type. _

"_I love you, George."_

_"Love you too, Fred."_

_And then they said goodnight to each other and tried to sleep, although it was a long while before either of them did._

"What did you discuss?" Dumbledore asked.

"That the one left would have to go on. I knew it would be hard, but not _this_ hard."

"That was a wise decision between you two. My advice, George, is that you do just that. Continue your excellent shop, and remember that you do it for and with your twin. He is just on the other side of the veil, waiting for you. He will help you when you need it, and he will give you ideas, too. Just try to feel for him, I am certain he is there. I'm sure that he'll be proud of you whatever you do."

George was forced to dry his eyes yet again. The thought of Fred being proud of him- instead of both of them being proud of themselves- was a painful one. But the more George thought of it, the more he understood what Dumbledore was saying. Fred would always be with George because they had been- and were still, according to Dumbledore- so close. Whatever George would accomplish would be because of Fred, and so they would still have to be proud of each other.

Feeling slightly better, George bid Dumbledore a good day and walked back through the halls of Hogwarts. Portions were still in ruins, and the students were all home for the summer holidays. Still, George thought he could hear the familiar sound of laughter, the sound of children enjoying the jokes he and Fred had invented.

Although he was walking alone down the corridors, he felt the familiar presence of his twin, as if Fred was walking beside him like always did. It was comforting, it was uplifting.

George knew that he would be okay.


End file.
